Survival I: Absolute Zero
by Cassima
Summary: While Heero and Duo are on a mission, something goes wrong. Shounen-ai, COMPLETE.
1. Mission: success

Title: Absolute Zero  
  
Author: Cassima black_cassima@hotmail.com  
  
Fandom: GW  
  
Disclaimer: I put them through crap, so they refuse to belong to me, damn them.  
  
Warnings: Angst, shounen-ai, nothing graphic (except  
perhaps language).  
  
Pairings: 1+2, 1+5  
  
Rating: PG-13 for oh-my-goodness, that would be a swear  
word! And another, and another, and...  
  
Summary: While Heero and Duo are on a mission, something  
goes wrong.  
  
Story Notes: This is part one of the Trilogy "Survival".  
The parts include:  
  
I. Absolute Zero  
II. To Build a Fire  
III. January Thaw  
  
ABSOLUTE ZERO: The name comes from the temperature scale  
Kalvins (K), which is used in scientific measurement. It  
represents the Celsius scale plus roughly 273 degrees, or  
  
K=C+273.  
  
This measurement is used for calculations involving  
temperature because the absence of all heat--absolute  
zero--is different than simple "cold". Absolute zero  
does not occur naturally on Earth, but space is  
this cold all the time. Now that you've had your  
science lesson for the day, on to the fanfiction!  
  
  
*~*~*~ Absolute Zero *~*~*~  
  
Two to the left, three to the right, but clear  
straight ahead. Heero snuck a glance up at his partner,  
who looked a bit odd. "Ready?" he mouthed.  
  
Duo nodded and gave a cheerful thumbs up from his  
position on the catwalk. Holding up a pen-shaped  
detonator, he pressed the shiny red button with a certain  
amount of undisguised glee.  
  
A rushing BOOM resounded through the base, and  
the soldiers stood up straight and looked at each other  
with surprise. "Fire in Area B-23," crackled a voice  
on their radio. "All available hands report."  
  
"Group C-9, acknowledged," the tallest of the three on  
the right confirmed, and the group shouldered their  
firearms and trudged off.  
  
"C-8, roger that," one of the other group responded  
as they joined their comrades. "We're on our way."  
  
"Acknowledged, C-8," the voice crackled again.  
  
"Over and out."  
  
Like taking keys from an Oz guard, Heero thought  
rather smugly before pulling himself out of the shadows  
to examine the cargo. Sending a self-explanatory  
nod to Duo, he began to move, panther-like, towards  
his prey: the giant wooden crates spread out pell-  
mell around the warehouse.  
  
Duo landed with a light "thunk" on the crate to his  
right. "Heh, heh, heh," he chuckled throatily.  
"Putty in my hands." His voice was a little rough.  
  
Heero glanced at him warily, but Duo was too busy  
hopping to another crate and reading the tag to  
meet Heero's eye. "You take this section," he  
said, turning around.  
  
"Anything you say, Yuy," the other responded cheerfully,  
chuckling a little.  
  
Curbing another urge to stare at the Shinigami  
pilot, he turned his mind to the task at hand.  
He would not stare at Duo Maxwell. He would not  
fret about Maxwell like a baka mother. He would  
stick to the task, and finish the damn mission,  
and go back to their temporary home and try not  
to think about killing Relena Peacecraft, or the  
whirlwind that was Duo Maxwell. No, he was going  
to find the damn weapon, and blow it up with a  
vengence, and wait for Wufei to zap the sensors  
and swing by to pick them up. Yes, he, Heero  
Yuy, would wait.  
  
Patiently.  
  
Maxwell was unnaturally quiet.  
  
Heero resisted looking back to make sure he was  
still alive. "It's not over here," he said  
reluctantly.  
  
No response.  
  
With a stotic face perfected from long practice, he  
turned. "Well? Did you find it?"  
  
Duo shook his head, silently dropping off his current  
crate to the floor. His face seemed unnaturally pale  
in the flourecsent white overhead lights.  
  
"Hn," Heero responded, eyes flickering around the  
room for suggestions as to the placement of the  
weapon.  
  
"If I were a 20 ton lazer capable of some  
serious death and destruction, where would I hide?"  
Duo mused absently, looking around.  
  
Heero glared at him.  
  
"Not here, that's for sure," Duo continued, oblivious  
to the Death Glare Version One-point-Three. "Virgin  
Islands, all the way. None of this snowy sub-zero crap.  
When this war is over, I'm going to buy a nice island in  
the Carribbean and stay there with three hula dancers and  
couple dozen monkey-butlers to serve me piña coladas with  
little flowered tissue-paper-and-toothpick umbrellas  
until I die of alcohol poisoning." He sighed happily,  
picturing it. "That's the life."  
  
Heero blinked at the bizarre image of Duo being  
served *anything* by monkeys in little tuxedos. Masking  
his confusion behind impatience, he glared again.  
"Stop chattering; you're giving me a headache."  
  
Duo stuck his tongue out at him. "Fine then, I won't  
invite you to my Paradise," he replied huffily, and  
jumped up on a nearby crate to sit.  
  
Heero growled deep in his throat. "Omae o korosu."  
  
The other boy smirked. "If you say so."  
  
There was a pause as Heero considered what the hell  
they were going to do now.  
  
"Ne, Heero?" Duo asked quietly.  
  
Heero implemented Yuy Death Glare, Version Two-Point-One.  
  
Duo swung his legs absently, unperterbed by Heero's ill  
nature but still somber. "You think this was just  
a decoy? Maybe it's already there." His voice was  
hoarse again.  
  
"Impossible," Heero denied. "The carriers leaving  
here after the project was finished were all too  
small to hold it, and a fighter would be too  
conspicuous."  
  
There was another pause. "Ne, Heero?"  
  
Yuy Death Glare Three-Point-Five.  
  
"Maybe they dissassembled it."  
  
"Their scientists are all still here," Heero pointed out grumpily.  
"We saw them on the way in, remember?"  
  
There was another short pause. "Ne, Heero?"  
  
Yuy Death Glare Four-Point-Two.  
  
"Maybe they have it loaded up already. You know,  
in preparation for shipping?"  
  
"The carrier arrives tomorrow."  
  
"I know, but what if *that* one is a decoy? I  
mean, they recieved their bi-monthly order of  
beef yesterday, right? So, it could be going out  
in that, couldn't it?" Duo watched Heero's face for  
any signs of agreement or disagreement. "They  
wouldn't be *that* stupid, would they, Heero?"  
  
Heero was already making his way towads the  
shipping lot. He could here a muttered curse  
behind him as Duo scrambled to catch up, pulling  
himself back onto the catwalk, and after that  
only the light smacking of the Shinigami pilot's  
tennis shoes on the thin metal surface above him.  
  
But, honestly, who would've thought that Maxwell baka  
would have a good idea?  
  
When they arrived at the Holding, Heero easily identified  
the airship by the reek of bloody meat. The carrier  
was being rinsed out in preparation for the carefully  
sealed bomb a couple hundred meters away.  
  
"Man-oh-man," whistled Maxwell softly as he dropped  
with feline agility from the catwalk. "That is one  
big mother of a bomb!"  
  
Heero frowned at this intrusion of his thoughts.  
Through the screen of Yuy Death Glare Version Four-  
Point-Seven, he watched his fellow pilot. He was  
panting--too out of breath for his condition--and  
the slightly glassy look in his eyes made Heero  
want to purse his lips with thought, but that was too  
out of character, so he didn't.  
  
Heero settled for turning his mind back to the explosives  
equipment in front of them. It would be simple to--  
  
"Ne, Heero?"  
  
He quickly perfected Yuy Death Glare Version Five-Point-  
Two.  
  
"Does it seem odd to you that they keep their most  
powerful weaponry out in the middle of their loading  
docks where any half-decent terrorist could get it?"  
He wiped at the light sheen of sweat on his forehead  
with the back of one hand. "Man, it's cold in here."  
  
"Hn." Heero rolled his eyes. The people were idiots.  
If *Maxwell* could figure out their plan... "You  
create a diversion, I'll set the trigger. Give me  
five minutes. I'll meet you at the contact location."  
  
Duo flashed his trademark evil grin before spoiling  
it with a wink. "Give me three minutes to set up,  
and one more after I begin." Snickering to himself,  
he jumped up, melded with the shadows, and was gone.  
  
Heero snorted almost silently before turning his  
attention back to the carrier. Minimal security,  
too. Idiots, all of them.  
  
Heavily armed idiots, though. And if Maxwell's  
suggestion hadn't been a last resort for Heero,  
he never would have found out about it. ...Maybe  
the secrecy was their plan. Or, maybe they had  
a secret weapon.  
  
He narrowed his gaze at the soldiers and growled  
silently. It would be just like Maxwell not to  
plan for that contingency.  
  
He carefully began to plan his route to where he  
would plant the explosives. Of course, it would  
all depend on the diversion Maxwell planned, but  
it was always good to have a plan. He could come  
up with backup plans, too.  
  
Hell, if Maxwell didn't start *soon*, he was going  
to start his own little diversion. Heero looked at  
his watch, feeling his characteristic ornery nature  
rear its ugly head. If Duo didn't start *soo--  
  
"How dare you?" A deep, rough voice spoke softly,  
resonatingly, through the speaker system.  
  
The soldiers aimed their guns in various directions,  
searching for the source of the disturbance. Duo  
no baka! "Kisama!" Heero hissed softly. What was  
the idiot *doing*?!  
  
"How dare you?" the deep voice spoke again with a  
touch of anger. "Petty children."  
  
"Who's there?" one of the more bold guards said into  
the silence. His voice broke the brittle air, and  
a certain tension entered Heero's opponents. "Show  
yourself!"  
  
"Who are you to demand anything? You have murdered.  
There is blood on your hands."  
  
"Spy! Show yourself!"  
  
A deep, raspy chuckle. "You hold sacrilige on your  
neck. You murder and pray for the sins of others.  
Where is your sin, my son?"  
  
"You're not... you can't be--"  
  
"Put down the gun and go home, Andrew."  
  
The man frowned nervously. "This is Jacobsin, isn't  
it? Stop messing around, Jacobsin."  
  
"Go back to St. Petersburg."  
  
"Jacobsin, I'm going to kick your ass. Get off the  
intercom."  
  
"Go back to your family."  
  
"I swear, Jacobsin--"  
  
"Put down your gun and be a father to your child."  
  
Heero began to sneak around the crates.  
  
"JACOBSIN, SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!" Andrew shouted,  
sweat trickling down his face and gun trained on  
the observatory window where officers directed traffic.  
  
"Don't let your child grow to be murderer, too, Andrew."  
  
The panicked man let loose a volley of bullets at the  
window, shattering the glass.  
  
"Kisama!" Heero spat again, diving for cover under the  
bomb, eyes wide with panic. Duo no baka, going to get  
them both killed!  
  
The large darkened panes crashed to the ground, slow-motion  
like, only to reveal an empty room.  
  
"You can't kill me."  
  
All the soldiers were sweating now, beginning to believe in  
their fellow soldier's God. The silence was deafening.  
They looked around for the source of the voice. Suddenly,  
as one, they began to cover the area with gunfire, desperately  
working to stop the ragged chuckles.  
  
Duo must have a hell of a hiding place, Heero decided, finishing  
the touches on his bomb and rolling silently out from underneath  
the bomb. Finished, damn Duo's methods. Was he trying to get  
killed? Was he trying to get *Heero* killed? If it happened,  
it would be solely by accident at this point.  
  
The guards stopped shooting, looking around the room for any  
sign of the intruder, but the shipping bay was still.  
  
Suddenly, the gunfire returned from all sides; this time,  
however, the guards were the targets. Ammunition from all  
over the room began to come to life--and just barely skimmed  
the shaking soldiers.  
  
"You can't kill me," the raspy voice continued, hoarser than  
before but not lacking the amused undertones.  
  
"Who are you?!" one of Andrew's companions demanded in a  
squeak, flinching as a bead of sweat just missed his left eye.  
  
"I am Shinigami."  
  
The three guards gulped.  
  
Overhead, a thick cord snapped and electricity crackled  
dangerously. "I am the Great Destroyer." The lights  
flickered into emergency mode as three more cords were  
cut by something and began to sizzle with electricity.  
"I am the beginning and the ending. Alpha and omega."  
  
Heero nearly rolled his eyes with impatience. "Note to  
self," he decided, "don't let Duo do anymore distraction  
missions."  
  
"Put down your weapons and get on the carrier."  
  
With a clatter, the guns fell to the floor. The youngest  
man looked as if he were about to wet his pants. Gulping  
shallow breaths, they herded themselves onto the carrier.  
  
"Live your life," the voice told them as they shut the door.  
  
With a gentle hum, the carrier, still filled with melting animal  
blood, took off. Duo jumped down from the catwalk to land lightly  
next to Heero. With a slight cough, he began picking small dust  
bunnies out of his hair, and grinned at Heero.  
"You can plant the bomb now."  
  
With a deadpan expression, Heero lifted the detonator and  
pressed the red button right in front of Duo's face.  
  
"SHIT!" Duo yelped, diving for cover amidst the explosion.  
"When did you--nevermind." He shook his head, a mixture of  
awe and disgust in his eyes. "I don't want to know."  
  
"Ninmu--"  
  
"Kanryou," Duo chanted with him with a grimace and a shiver,  
"and all that jazz. Yeah, whatever. Let's go."  
  
His disgruntled, ruffled appearance made Heero smother a grin.  
The stupid shit was so cute at times.  
  
Heero blinked, stupified. Where did that thought come from?  
  
*****  
  
He began to pick at the lock again, just for something to do.  
What had possessed them to hide in the freezer? Heero wondered  
again. And, of course, the damn handle was only unlocked on  
the *outside* of the door. Hadn't these Oz clowns ever heard  
of public safety? There were regulations against freezers  
that locked people up together, the sadistic bastards.  
  
Plus, that damn Maxwell was acting funny again.  
  
But, enough of that baka. He'd already thought too much about  
the long-haired--  
  
Resolutely, Heero began to calculate the placement of the knife.  
He had ignored the coughing fit Duo had burst into as soon as  
the door swung shut. He had ignored Duo's whining about the  
temperature. (Of course it was cold in here! It was a freezer,  
damn it! That was its design!) He could ignore him now that he was  
just sitting quietly. Wufei was due to swing by and pick them up  
in--he checked his watch--two hours, three minutes, and twelve  
seconds. Perfect. Two hours with a bored Duo Maxwell. Wonderful.  
  
And so, Heero worked at the lock to the sound of Duo shaking  
and shivering back in the corner. For the love of... it wasn't  
*that* cold!  
  
After a while, the noises stopped. Stupid attention-seeking  
American. Hadn't he learned yet that Heero could steel  
himself against such dumb tactics?  
  
But now there was no sound coming from the corner of the  
icy meat freezer, except for some slow, shallow breathing  
that began to worry Heero's conscience, small as he liked to  
pretend that conscience might be. "Duo?" he broke the silence.  
There was no answer.  
  
With a sigh of exasperation to cover up his concern, he turned.  
"Duo?" He stopped at the sight of Duo's still body, pale  
face, and blue lips. Walking over, he shook Duo once, nice  
and hard, and considered smacking him across the head. "Duo!"  
  
The other boy's lids slowly opened, and violet eyes struggled  
to focus on his friend's. "Heero?" came the strained voice  
from before. His dark purple lips managed a small smile.  
"I'm not cold anymore."  
  
"Hn." Heero grimaced, somehow unnerved.  
  
"I'm warm." His eyes began to slide shut.  
  
Warning bells chimed the hour in Heero's head. "Duo?"  
  
Duo's eyes paused halfway down. "Hn?"  
  
"Duo, don't fall asleep."  
  
"But I'm tired." The voice lacked the usual plaintative whine  
those words would have brought forth. And, in fact, the normally  
strong voice was breathy and faint.  
  
"Don't fall asleep." There was an uncharacteristic note of  
pleading in his voice. "Please, Duo. I need you to stay  
awake. Talk to me."  
  
Duo's eyes struggled back open, but they looked a bit glassy.  
He was trying to focus; he could sense Heero thought something  
was wrong. "But I annoy you."  
  
"No," Heero denied, propping him up and pulling him away  
from the vent the other boy had collapsed next to. He  
positioned himself behind Duo, trying to share body  
heat. Duo's body was like ice. "I'm not annoyed."  
  
"Even Quatre's annoyed."  
  
"Quatre's never annoyed," Heero told him, unsure of how  
to comfort someone. "He doesn't get annoyed."  
  
Duo began to cough, the sound wet, tight, deep, and painful.  
Holding him, lending support and balance to him seemed surreal  
to the Japanese boy, who frowned uneasily with worry. And  
when the attack ended, Duo's breathing was shallow and thick,  
as if every breath was a struggle.  
  
What could he say? "Are you okay?" "You're sick"?  
"Duo no baka"? He finally settled on, "What's going on?"  
  
Duo chuckled briefly. "Enjoy the ride... Heero-my-man.  
I don't have a fucking clue."  
  
Heero pulled the shivering body closer to him, frowning at the  
beads of sweat freezing on his temples and neck. "Symptoms?"  
  
"Cold--" he began coughing again, eyes clenched shut tightly  
in pain. Heero wrapped one arm around his chest to keep him  
from collapsing, the other hand wrapped tightly around the  
cold braid. When that fit was over, he lay back gratefully onto  
Heero's strong chest, listening to the other boy's heart beat  
and his own wheezing breath.  
  
"Symptoms?" Heero asked again, though he'd mostly figured  
them out by now. He had to keep Duo awake.  
  
Duo's voice was strained, his words a little slurred.  
"Cold. Dizzy. Can't... breathe. Cough... hurts..."  
  
Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, trying to keep the heat  
in. They couldn't leave the freezer; people were banging  
around in the kitchen. But, could they afford to stay?  
Duo's skin was pale and his breathing ragged. Small details  
began to pull themselves together, completeing the picture.  
Duo's lack of breath throughout the mission. His odd  
speech lapses, as he muffled coughing. How he tired so  
easily while running. The strangeness that surrounded him.  
So he was sick... but with what?  
  
*****  
  
He plucked the strings gently; the tuning was perfect, and  
he only had to wait for Trowa to finish assembling and tuning  
his flute. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the words "new  
virus" printed on the screen, and laid down his violin. With a frown,  
Quatre turned up the volume on the monitor.  
  
The anchorman's voice rose into audible range. "...so far,  
the victims of this strange, deadly disease are residents  
or former residents of the L2 colony, though only a few  
people have been affected. Symptoms may include unusual  
sensitivity to temperature, sweating, nausea, coughing, fever,  
and excessive phlegm. Doctors say it is not contageous, but may  
prove fatal within twelve to twenty-four hours if the patient  
does not recieve medical care. Doctors are strongly  
recommending former residents of colony L2 displaying three  
or more of these symptoms in severity to see a medical professional  
immediately. In other news, fires swept the once-prominent  
Chicago area over in the U.S.A. a few hours ago..."  
  
Quatre turned off the screen, eyes sad. "How horrible. Do  
you think Duo'll be affected, Trowa?"  
  
The man in question studied his flute with the one eye  
visible from underneat his bangs. "I'm sure he'll be  
fine."  
  
The blond Arabian smiled gently and picked up his violin.  
"I'd like to start on measure 51, please. I'm having a  
little difficulty with the synchopation." Still, though,  
he wasn't sure. Something felt odd.  
  
*****  
  
Wufei chewed on his lip to distract himself from his unease.  
Something was going on in that Oz base... Yuy had sent the  
all-clear signal, but an unauthorized takeoff from the landing  
bay left him suspicious. Oz was getting cagey; after this  
mission, it would be wise to take a vacation to a hidden  
valley or tucked-away retreat somewhere. Of course, that would  
mean being locked up for three months or so with that irritating  
Maxwell, but Wufei found he didn't mind the other gundam  
pilots so much as before. Infact, there were some he found  
rather--intriguing.  
  
But, all the pilots had their good points. Yuy wasn't the  
cold bastard he liked to pretend he was. Maxwell was a bit  
hyper, but his antics were occasionally amusing. Trowa could  
be killer at poker, and accredited Wufei with a certain respect  
that the Chinese pilot found acceptable in a comrade. And  
Quatre, of course, under the weak facade, was an interesting  
conversationalist, and fairly knowledgable. It could be  
a worse group of people, he supposed.  
  
He was always a sucker for the wounded soldier, though; he  
would have to be on his guard. He couldn't afford to become  
attached to any one of the pilots. Wufei was the odd man, the  
loner. Wasn't he?  
  
He frowned, and made a mental note to worship Nataku after the  
pickup.  
  
*****  
  
Time had passed slowly. Duo's voice had become weak and  
lethargic, and Heero finally decided to screw the hideout.  
Something was dangerously wrong with the baka. He wasn't  
talking, or being a pest, or acting like a pogo stick on  
speed. He was lying still and quiet.  
  
"Maxwell," he said shortly. "Get up."  
  
"Wha...?" the other boy murmured sleepily.  
  
"We're leaving."  
  
"'Fei's here?" Duo asked as he tried to sit up. His eyelids  
drooped, and he paused to rest.  
  
"Change of plans." Heero put his hands under Duo's arms  
and pulled him up, lifting one arm around his shoulders.  
  
Duo didn't challenge this; his silent acceptance was  
scary almost by itself.  
  
Heero shifted his grip down around Duo's waist. "Hold  
on," he warned. He felt Duo's arm tighten around his  
neck, and he easily took most of the other's weight.  
"Ready?"  
  
"Not really," Duo mumbled, and allowed Heero to lead  
him out of the freezer, through the kitchen, and down the  
long hallway. It bothered him a little, that he couldn't  
hold his gun and support Duo at the same time, but Duo  
was incapable of holding one upright in his current state,  
and it only crossed his mind once to kill the boy and leave  
him behind.  
  
It seemed his days of being a cold bastard were numbered.  
  
In any case, the gun was close at hand in case of an emergency,  
and Heero was the fastest draw in an area far bigger than "the  
west"; it would have to do.  
  
They waded through the hallways as quietly as possible, and  
neatly evaded the patrols--thanks to Heero. Duo continued  
to shake, and soon his body was covered in sweat, even as  
he whispered responses to Heero's demands for a "status report":  
"Cold..."  
  
Heero had never been more pleased to see Wufei in his life.  
  
They took off as soon as the pilots were inside, and, after  
strapping Duo in, Heero sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to  
the Chinese boy. "He needs to go to a hospital."  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Wufei asked, but Heero could see him  
re-setting the course of the airship.  
  
"He's got some sort of virus," Heero replied. "Make sure there's  
a good doctor on hand."  
  
"I know where Sally Po is," he responded. "We'll go there."  
  
In the back left bucket seat, Duo began to cough again.  



	2. Mission: failure

  
*****  
  
"Duo's from L2?" Sally asked, looking at the x-rays.  
  
"Yes..." Wufei answered suspicously. "Why?"  
  
She sighed, and looked back at the test results in the folder in  
her hand. "Don't you kids watch the news?"  
  
"Onna, if you don't tell us what's wrong with the damn baka--"  
  
She bit her lip, trying to remind herself that Wufei was very  
stressed at the moment, worrying about his friend. "L2 is a  
very poor colony," she finally said. "They don't have a  
reputation for following health codes all the time. The  
Department of Human Rights has a certain set of regulations  
that a colony must follow to remain fit for human habitation;  
this involves flushing waste, water purification, and so on.  
  
"Recently, it has come to public attention that certain areas of  
L2--the more inner city ones--don't change the air filters  
regularly. A virus mutated in a few of these filters eight to  
ten years ago and caused a plauge, wiping out a great deal of the  
population living on the streets before doctors could come up  
with a vaccine."  
  
She sighed and set down the files. "A mutation of this virus has  
been incubating in Duo's lungs for quite some time. Cases like  
this have been popping up all over L2 recently; I had a doctor friend  
of mine there fax me a copy of all the information he has on it.  
It's not contagious, but that won't help your friend."  
  
"Can you cure him?" Heero asked, mouth tight.  
  
"I don't know, Heero," she responded. "Time and medication should  
be able to clear his body of the infection, but the virus is  
resiliant. He'll probably have a few relapses." Sally pointed  
to a few spots on the x-ray. "You can see here and here that there's damage to the lung tissue; if you'd been half an hour later,  
he'd be coughing up blood right now."  
  
"Prognosis?"  
  
"He'll probably pull through. He's young and otherwise healthy."  
  
*****  
  
Duo's chest rose and fell slowly, and Heero was sorry he hadn't rushed more. The oxygen mask covering the American's mouth and nose looked strange on the boy, as did the IV bags hanging around him, and the monitors behind the bed. The pallor of his skin, accompanied by the light sheen of sweat across his face, did nothing to allay the Wing pilot's fear that something was dreadfully wrong with this picture of the normally vibrant Shinigami.  
  
He allowed one hand to touch Duo's bangs, brushing them off the boy's  
forehead; a tender look at the sleeping boy, just this once. Duo...  
Duo was special. Leaning over, he gave into his urge to kiss the  
waxy skin of Duo's cheek, right next to the edge of the oxygen mask.  
  
It was a mere brush of the lips, but Heero felt something electric  
move up his spine. "Duo..." he whispered, and shifted the mask aside  
to get a better look at those lips.  
  
Duo shifted a little, and sighed as the oxygen mask shifted. "Hilde..."  
  
Heero froze. He could feel something inside him grow cold and hard,  
lodging itself in his stomach.  
  
What an idiot he was.  
  
Replacing the oxygen mask, he silently turned and left the room.  
  
Right outside the room, he bumped into Wufei. Great. Someone to  
pity him.  
  
"What's wrong, Heero?" the other boy asked quietly as they stood just  
outside the doorway to Duo's room.  
  
"Get out of my way," Heero said, just as quietly.  
  
"It is not weakness to have feelings," Wufei said. "Nataku taught  
me that."  
  
Heero did not feel like learning about Wufei's baka gundam. "I'm  
not weak. Step aside."  
  
Wufei, instead of listening, put a hand on Heero's arm. "Maybe,  
what you could not find with Duo, you could--perhaps--find with me."  
  
Heero swallowed and looked up from the hand on his arm to his eyes,  
into his eyes. Did he know the pain of loneliness, too? Was he tired  
of the cold? Could he and Wufei...?  
  
With a sigh of acceptance, he took the other's hand from his arm and  
held it in his own. The feel of Wufei's fingers tingled slightly  
in his own; Wufei had pleasant hands. They were hardly a match made  
in heaven, but it would do to keep out the cold.  
  
Back in the hospital room, Duo shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. 


End file.
